


A Bob-White Wedding

by ChiaraRose



Category: The Trixie Belden Mysteries - Julie Campbell Tatham & Kathryn Kenny
Genre: F/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 21:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13198896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiaraRose/pseuds/ChiaraRose
Summary: A wedding means the start of something new, but Honey's wedding held more surprises than Trixie could handle.





	A Bob-White Wedding

As one of the matrons of honor, Trixie Frayne couldn’t see much from her position at the back of the gaggle of Honey’s bridesmaids. When her brother and his groomsmen marched to the altar from a side door, she smiled at her husband’s bright red thatch, soaring above the rest.* After over a year of marriage, even the sight of Jim’s hair sent tingles all through her body.  She couldn’t see anyone else, but she imagined that Brian was nervous and thrilled to be marrying his long-time love, that their father standing next to him and Jim as the other best man was proud of Brian and touched to be at his side on this all-important day. The rest of the Bob-Whites and Brian’s other groomsmen—his cousin Knut Belden,* brother Mart, Dan Mangan, Ed Hall, Tad Webster, Spider Webster, Bill Regan, Honey’s cousin Ben Riker, Nick Roberts, Peter Kimball, Ned Schultz, and Bob Hubbell—would be happy for him and Honey, maybe Dan hoping his turn would be soon. 

Some of the bridesmaids gathered around the photographic display by the guest book. Honey and Di had lovingly designed it to show Brian and Honey’s relationship not only with each other, but everyone in the bridal party. Trixie wished she could see it, but everyone was taller than she.

Everyone in the church foyer shushed everyone else as they parted to let Moms and Bobby through to begin the processional. Then Madeleine Wheeler, resplendent in taffeta, a huge ruffle over one shoulder, made a last check of her daughter and the forest of bridesmaids before she allowed Trixie’s cousin Cap Belden to escort her to the front row. The crowd closed behind her, and once again, all Trixie could see of the church was her husband’s red hair and a few spikes of the taller flowers in urns.

The flowers, of course, were gold, like everything else in the wedding, from Honey in rich cream to her mother’s bronze green dress* with its golden sheen. Fortunately the church’s carpet and pew cushions followed the color scheme, as did the flowers, their varieties and colors ranging from bright white through the yellow spectrum to harvest gold, seeds carefully selected and planted on Crabapple Farm, their blooms harvested this week by the wedding party. Looking around at the exquisite young ladies, Trixie grinned at the contrast.

Two days ago, everyone had been deep in dirt, harvesting flowers, none more so than Di, overseer of the new floral operation of Crabapple Farm. Before that, the bridal party had been enjoying a spa vacation at Manor House. Trixie and Jim had just returned from their summer-long camping trip, which began with a final interview at Tulsa Boys’ Home, where Jim would teach and counsel for a few years. They’d scouted for houses, with Honey and Brian joining them for the final selection of an old, rambling duplex in Sapulpa, halfway between the Boys’ Home and the hospital where Brian would serve his residency. Brian and Jim had coordinated Jim’s job and Brian’s residency when Honey put her dainty foot down about marriage. She had waited long enough, she said. Knowing how many hours he’d be working, Brian applied for residencies in the same towns where Jim applied to schools. 

After turning down the government spy agencies that came recruiting on campus and working in the Sleepyside Police Department offices for a year, Trixie planned to seek an internship with a private detective in Oklahoma. She hoped she and Honey could experiment with the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency, but she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Honey privately in ages, between Honey’s business studies at her university, the new house, furniture* for the house, the wedding preparations, and the Fraynes’ wandering about the country as they explored other schools similar to Jim’s dream. And while it was so much fun to see so many people from their Bob-White adventures, Trixie missed all the talks she and Honey used to have. But we’ll have plenty of time to talk after we’re all moved in, she reminded herself.

She swallowed the lump in her throat as Larry Lynch offered his arm to Miss Trask, splendid in a suit of old gold nubby silk. Miss Trask, now the Wheeler’s estate manager, had taken care of Honey and the Bob-Whites for so many years. Both Brian and Honey agreed that she needed a place of honor at their wedding.* Miss Trask herself suggested that she sit on the second row behind Mrs. Wheeler, so as not to seem part of the immediate family. That broke up the impending battle between Honey and her mother; they accepted the compromise with grace and a last furious glance at each other. Brian chose that moment to announce that Regan would be one of the groomsmen, with  a steely glint in his eye for anyone who objected to a servant in the wedding party. No one did, but there was a few moments of tense silence until Madeleine remarked that Regan had always been such a good friend to the Bob-Whites. 

The organist and accompanying brass broke into a clamorous march, and the bridesmaids’ bevy swirled around until flower girls Merry and Cherry Lynch* were at entrance of the sanctuary. Their baskets trailed golden honeysuckle as they paraded down the aisle. Trixie grinned as she remembered the twins’ lack of enthusiasm for the honor.

“Flower girls? We’re thirteen,” said Merry, or possibly Cherry.

“I mean, we’ve been flower girls lots of times—for Juliana and Hans, Diana and Mart, Trixie and Jim,” said her sister. “You’d think we’d be in line for a promotion.”

“At least to junior bridesmaid.” agreed the first twin.

“I’m desperate,” said Honey, her determined expression at war with her sweet, soft features. “You can be full bridesmaids if you’ll let me call you flower girls. Otherwise, my mother will want me to pick some of her friends’ disgusting little monsters. She actually suggested little Arianna Templeton last week—a five-year-old hellcat if ever there was one. I am not having my wedding ruined by a passel of brats.”

“You said ‘hell.’ And I thought you liked children,” exclaimed the second twin, eyes wide. “You always wished you had little brothers and sisters.”

“All this time, you’ve been lying!” Her sister’s voice dripped with sorrow.

Honey was grim. “I liked you, your brothers, and Bobby. I like you even better now. And I never liked rich, spoiled brats. You should see my mother’s friends’ children and grandchildren. Well, you will.”

After being admitted to full secret bridesmaid status (and driving a stiff bargain for their wages as reception child care workers), Merry and Cherry agreed to be nominal flower girls. They were thrilled with their sophisticated dresses, the same beautiful turquoise jewelry that Honey gave her attendants, the enormous flower baskets that were closer to camoflauge than bouquets, and, most of all, Trixie suspected, the thrill of spa activities and other fun Honey arranged for the bridal party. 

The first set of bridesmaids, Priya and Keshondra, followed the twins down the aisle. Mart Belden described the wedding party as the United Nations of bridesmaids. It was certainly true, thought Trixie. Besides Honey’s college friends Keshondra and Midori, international penpals Dolores, Lupita, Imani, and Priya, and, because Honey kept up with everyone they met on their travels (Honey being Honey), Gaye Hunra, Sally Wellington, Joeanne Darnell, Barbara Hubbell, Rosita Begay, and Trixie’s cousin Hallie Belden, with Di and Trixie rounding out the crowd as matrons of honor. 

Honey would have been happy with a handful of attendants, as Trixie and Di had done, keeping it a Bob-White affair, but Honey’s mother looked so disappointed that Honey relented and invited everyone she knew, with the Wheelers footing all expenses. Mr. Wheeler had taken Honey aside and asked her to indulge her mother’s grandiose dreams, in return for a 6-week honeymoon in Europe. Honey held firm on a few points, like having the wedding in Sleepyside instead of New York City, but otherwise agreed to all her mother’s suggestions. Brian grew more glassy-eyed and passive with each new display of wealth. Honey’s contact list had to fill out the groomsmen after Brian named his family and closest friends. 

Trixie could only marvel that she’d never seen the extent of what the Wheelers could buy, even after ten years. She admired Madeleine’s acting ability for never once sneering at the simple wedding their son Jim had had. And her heart warmed, remembering the best day of her life, her wedding with Jim at Crabapple Farm with their closest friends and family, even Jim’s cousin Juliana from Holland.

As Gaye and Rosita set forth, Trixie smiled and whispered to Di, “Remember how Gaye cried when she realized that Honey was asking her to be a bridesmaid, not play her violin?”

Di giggled. “And Honey was confused because she thought Gaye was saying she’d rather play music.”

“Right. Honey didn’t understand that no one had ever asked Gaye to do something as a friend before. Everyone was always trying to get her to play for free, pretending friendship. I have to say, I was dreading spending ten days with Gaye Hunra, but she’s turned out okay. She even tried to be nice to Bobby, but he’s only got eyes for Merry.”

“It’s Cherry this week. I know what you mean about Gaye. I think it’s all due to Honey, acting like a big sister or cousin. She couldn’t help being a good influence.” Di glanced through the door of the bride’s dressing room at the huge mirror. She turned sideways and smoothed her deep gold dress.

“You don’t show at all, “Trixie whispered.

Di’s violet eyes opened wide as saucers. “Then how do you know? We weren’t going to tell anyone for a few weeks. I mean, it’s Honey and Brian’s day. We didn’t want to take the focus off them.”

“Of course not. But you’ve looked tired and pale, just picking at your food. And you’re not sticking out at all, but you’re carrying your weight differently, a bit swaybacked, your center of gravity higher.”

“Gleeps! I hope not everyone is as observant as you.” Di looked back at the mirror, this time squinting at her face. “Do I need more blush?”

“Nope. Thanks to that army of spa people that Honey hired, each of us is perfectly perfect in every way.” Trixie wrinkled her nose. “I feel like I’m wearing a mask.”

“You’re beautiful!” Di blinked her eyes, suddenly moist. “I was so happy when Brian got a residency in the same town as Jim’s job, close enough that you four could share a duplex, but now—oh, I’m going to miss you so. Oklahoma’s a long way away!”

Trixie wanted to hug her friend, but she didn’t want to mess up their perfect looks. She settled for patting the part of Di’s arm not covered in gold fabric. “We’ll come back as often as we can, with or without husbands, and we’ll do our best to be there for the Big Day and help you afterwards.”

Di covered Trixie’s hand with her own, but she had to shake her turquoise bracelet back first. “I’m going to have to get this bracelet adjusted before I lose it.”

Trixie glanced at her own bracelet. Just as the bridesmaid’s dresses were different styles and shades of gold, each bracelet was slightly different from the others. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? I bet Honey told Rosita’s father something about each of us. I don’t see how he could have made something that suits us all so well. Such a big custom order must have been a windfall for their family. Isn’t that just like Honey? Most people would have bought gifts at Crate and Barrel or James Avery.”

Di smiled. “And paying for everything for the bridal party—dresses, tuxes, shoes, hair, makeup, transportation, dancing lessons, and ten days of meals and entertainment at Manor House. For once, Honey seems determined to spend as much as possible.”

“And her parents are thrilled. Finally she’s behaving like a rich girl—almost, except that she’s trying to do as much good as possible. You saw their gift registry, right? All those charities she listed—Doctors without Borders, Heifer International, Wildcat Sanctuary, Sleepyside Animal Rescue—”

The wedding planner flapped her hands at Trixie and Di and shooed them into place. A small girl shrieked as they walked down the aisle, and Trixie silently gave Honey props for telling the ushers to seat the guests with children at the back of the church, though some parents looked miffed, thinking they should be closer to the front with the wedding families and friends. When Trixie and Di arrived at the altar, the organist pulled out all stops, and the brass blared a joyous march for Honey and her father.

The wedding went smoothly with just the right amount of tears shed—even from Honey, who cried when Gaye left the bridesmaid lineup to retrieve her violin, hidden behind the organ. The congregation held their collective breath in awe as she played the Schubert “Ave Maria.”

“Because you _didn’t_ ask,” mumbled Gaye afterwards, as Honey enveloped her in a cream silk hug (with a stylist standing ready to repair any damage). “I wanted to play for you.”

As the photographer arranged the Wheelers for family photos while the guests streamed out of the sanctuary, Trixie wandered back to the church foyer. She wanted to see the photographic display up close. Like the other Bob-Whites, she’d contributed photos, but she hadn’t seen the finished result. Honey had a duplicate made for the reception, but Trixie figured tall people would be there too.

She couldn’t help grinning: The courtship of Honey and Brian was necessarily a history of the Bob-Whites too. Honey was trying to introduce the wedding party too, since so many of them were from out of town. Di had posted their photos to resemble the mystery books they loved as teenagers. So Peter Kimball and Ed Hall were in a frame that announced _The Mystery on Cobbett’s Island_ ; Rosita’s book with her holding her father’s turquoise jewelry was _Mystery in Arizona_ ; Joeanne’s was _Red Trailer Mystery_ ; and so on. The junior prom photo of the Bob-White girls at seventeen* with the dates they were now married to was called _The Mystery of Everlasting Love_.

Memories tumbled over Trixie like Niagara Falls—happy, sad, frightening—until she had to lean against the wall. What if Honey had never come to Sleepyside? she wondered. Who would my friends have been in high school? Would I have ever made up with Di, without Honey’s tactful kindness? And Jim! Even I’d met him, it was Honey who smoothed over all our fights in the beginning. If he’d just met me, he would have gotten mad and left town the first day, never to be adopted by the Wheelers, never to grow up in love with me.

That was such an awful thought that she was glad to see Moms floating down the aisle in her pale lemon chiffon fairy dress, now finished with her parents-of-the-groom photos. She air-hugged Trixie. “Oh, Trixie, you mustn’t ever tell Brian and Mart, but you had the most wonderful, most beautiful wedding ever.”

Trixie found herself blinking back tears as she remembered her own disappointment when she couldn’t fit into Moms’ wedding dress, which was nothing to Moms’ disappointment when Trixie declared a tea-length white piqué dress from Nordstrom’s clearance rack as her bridal gown. Moms approved of the sheer organza that Honey intended to embroider with pink crabapple blossoms and drape over the dress, with seamstress Ella Kline’s help. Moms even embroidered crabapples in her veil, which they twisted around Trixie’s broad-brimmed white hat, but Trixie could tell that a backyard wedding wasn’t what Moms had in mind for her only daughter.

Now Trixie said in a little girl’s voice, “But I thought this is what you wanted.”

Moms sighed. “I thought I did. It was my dream, but of course your father and I couldn’t afford anything like that. We got married in the chapel with our families and a few friends. But now that I’ve been through a bridal extravaganza, even just as the mother of the groom—Yours was perfect, Trixie, exactly suited to you and Jim, and everyone so relaxed and happy. What a smart girl you are! And practical! I nearly cried when you wore your wedding gown to Honey and Brian’s rehearsal dinner. How nice that you can wear it for more than just your wedding!”

Trixie shivered, remembering Jim’s expression when he saw her in the dress again. She hoped she’d be able to fit into it for at least thirty years. Now she circled her arms around Moms, not quite touching, and unable to speak over the lump in her throat. 

Moms murmured that it was almost time for her to join the photo shoot. The photographer was finishing the small group photos, the last one a family photo of all five Lynch children. Trixie was glad for the excuse to join the others before she blubbered her makeup into a Halloween mask. She slipped her arms around Jim’s waist and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, “Moms says our wedding was the best ever.”

He squeezed her hands and grinned down at her. Oh, those green eyes! “ _I_ certainly thought so. I’m glad Honey was the sacrificial lamb to Mother’s ambitions.”

Honey stood a little ways apart as people arranged her dress, dabbed her makeup, and fluffed her hair. Though surrounded by her family and friends, she’d never looked so alone. No one except the stylists could get near her. Trixie gave her an encouraging smile and received a sad twitch of the painted, glossed lips in return.

But she and the rest of the party managed smiles through the rest of the photographs before they all set out for the reception at the country club.

The men dove into the lovely French dinner, gobbling as much as possible before the exhibition dances. Certain she would toss the crepes and asparagus into her lap, Trixie postponed eating, though her stomach growled. She groaned at the luscious aromas and risked a few strawberries during Honey and Brian’s first dance and their dances with their parents. Then it was time for the bridal party dance. Honey had provided them with ten days of dance lessons so that no one felt awkward, or at least, less awkward than they would have.

Trixie smiled as Cherry and Merry proudly joined the bridal party dance with their partners, Cap and Bobby. Larry and Terry were loud and visible in their relief at being excluded. Honey had made them take dance lessons with everyone else, in case they were needed as substitutes. Dad whisked Trixie off to dance, claiming a father’s privilege, but he let Jim cut in halfway through.

Then came the Bob-White Dance, with Hallie standing in to make the numbers even. She and Dan looked happy to begin the waltz together, and Trixie hoped they’d be celebrating another Bob-White wedding soon. Then we’ll have to make Hallie an official Bob-White, if she married Dan and moved to Sleepyside, Trixie thought. Though the dance was a waltz, they performed it cotillion style, changing partners until the women had danced with all the men before returning to their original partners.

When Dan claimed her, he said, “If you’re going to be around a few more days, why don’t you drop by the station? I’ve got a problem you can help me with.”

“I taught you how to do my job before I resigned,” Trixie chided. 

Dan gave her his sly grin. “I’ll buy you lunch. And you’ll be interested in this, a data miner’s delight.”

Before she could question him, it was time to go back to Jim, who gave her waist a squeeze as he led her down the line of dance. A bolt of sadness struck her as she realized how soon she would no longer be part of Sleepyside, when she and Jim ripped themselves out of New York to live in Oklahoma.

Temporarily, she reminded herself, and we’re sharing a house with Brian and Honey. When Brian and Jim were accepted at organizations near Sapulpa, Oklahoma, the four of them bought a duplex to share, with Mr. Wheeler’s providing the down payment as a wedding gift. Trixie’s lips twitched at the memory of closing day, when they discovered Mr. Wheeler’s gift was 75% of the purchase price. He always claimed to admire the Bob-Whites’ independence, but somehow his gifts always turned out to be more generous than Trixie liked. 

Sometimes he took her aside, always for a nice lunch in the City, and explained his reasoning, which always sounded so logical that she’d agree, until she discovered the actual amount of money involved. Then she wished they hadn’t already accepted Mrs. Wheeler’s gift of furniture to both couples. She’d made a weak protest that it wasn’t her and Jim’s wedding, but Madeleine Wheeler steamrolled over that, saying that she always intended to furnish Jim and Trixie’s first home, but they’d spent their first year in a furnished apartment in downtown Sleepyside, near the train station for Jim’s commute and near the police headquarters, where Trixie provided data and research services.

Certainly parents who could afford to often helped their children with down payments on their first homes, and Jim and Trixie and Brian and Honey would have a sound investment property to generate passive income after they left Sapulpa. Trixie wondered if she’d ever get used to rich relatives who wanted to shower you with presents. It looked like she’d have every chance to practice: Jim told her how scrupulous the Wheelers were to give equally to Honey and Jim, so that Jim would never feel like the adopted child, and Mr. Wheeler told her in one of their talks that he knew he couldn’t solve all the problems his children would face, but that he wanted to make sure that lack of money wasn’t one of them.

He’d done something similar before Jim and Trixie’s wedding, when Jim was finishing his master’s degree. He took her to Elaine’s and explained how he wanted Jim to work for Wheeler Associates for a year because he wanted Jim to understand how to make money and to know those who make it, both useful in his dream of a school.

“I’m so proud of Jim’s big heart,” said Mr.  Wheeler. “I want him to have the business skills and contacts to make his dreams come true.”

Impatient to get on with life, Trixie thought they’d start building Jim’s school as soon as they graduated and got married. But Jim thought his father’s plan a good one. “That will  give me a year to look at other schools, maybe apply to work at one and get some experience before I’m responsible for everything.”

As Jim twirled her one last time before the music ended, Trixie discovered that she was starving. She almost spun into a child who darted across the dance floor, spoiling her big finish. She returned to the wedding party’s table and dove into her dinner in a way that rivaled Mart, who raised his sandy eyebrows at the spectacle of his sister with double portions of everything.

“Got something to tell us, Trix?” Mart drawled.

“What? Of course not. But I haven’t been able to relax for days, worrying about these dances.” She sighed, blissful. “And I didn’t fall down.”

Mart hooted. “Got the bar set right there on the ground, don’t you?”

“For dancing? You bet. I did almost step on a kid though. Gleeps, why couldn’t their parents keep them off the dance floor for just a few minutes?”

Mart’s face darkened. “I’ll say! Di stumbled over a pair chasing each other. She almost fell!”

Di squeezed his arm. “You caught me. You saved…me.”

They exchanged sappy smiles. For people who didn’t want to announce their pregnancy, they were being really obvious, Trixie thought. But how terrible if Di had fallen!

Merry and Cherry paraded through the vast hall, enticing the younger children to join them in the separate room Honey insisted on having for childcare. The Bob-Whites exchanged looks and joined in the herding process. There were just enough small ones to stick out in the formal gathering. Most parents surrendered their darlings with relief, and most children were glad to follow the promises of cupcakes, video games, movies, and the special Honey-and-Brian-Get-Married coloring book that each child would get.

After slurping their chocolate mousse, Trixie and Di made their matron-of-honor speech. They’d decided to give one speech together, telling how they’d met Honey all those years ago and were so happy to now be related to her. Trixie thought Di was distracted and pulled her aside after they turned the mic over to Peter Belden for the first best-man speech, he and Jim having decided that their connections to Brian and Honey were just too different to blend in to one speech.

”What is it? What’s wrong?” whispered Trixie under her father’s choked up words about his first-born child.

Di held up her right wrist. Unlike Trixie’s, it was bare. “My bracelet fell off somewhere. I had it before we started dancing.”

“Hm,” said Trixieas her father moved onto this special day and how honored he was to stand with the son he’d always been so proud of as he welcomed such a wonderful young woman into the family. Before tears totally suspended his voice, Peter handed the mic to Jim, who waxed eloquent about his best friend and his beloved sister. 

Trixie choked up as she listened to Jim describe his first meeting with Honey and their years together as a family. She started to wipe her wet eyes with her hand, but Di grabbed a napkin and dabbed at Trixie’s eyes, so as not to disturb the infernal makeup.

When he was finished, Trixie dropped to her knees and peered under the tablecloth where Di had been sitting. Finding no trace of the bracelet, Trixie put her arm through Di’s and retraced her steps.

“When I tripped over those children would have been a good opportunity for it to fall off,” said Di, frowning.

They went to the dance floor and looked, to no avail. Jim joined them.

“Honey asked me to find out if everything is okay,” he said, carefully placing his arm around Trixie and being mindful of all the day’s cautions about hair, makeup, and dress. 

Trixie smiled up and drew him closer. As far as she was concerned, her perfect looks had served their purpose. “Di’s lost her bracelet. I was thinking I’d go ask Merry and Cherry. They herded the children out after that last dance. Di, maybe you could ask the people at the tables nearest the dance floor.”

“I’ll ask the DJ, the waitstaff, and the Bob-Whites,” said Jim.

They scattered to their tasks. Trixie checked the restroom before going to the children’s room. She located it by the screams.

A bedraggled twin opened the door when she knocked.

“Is it over yet?” begged Merry.

“Not yet,” said Trixie. “Would you like for me to send Bobby, Larry, and Terry to help?”

“Yes! We’ll share our wages, which are not nearly enough.”

Her sister joined her.

“Which is why we’re asking Honey for hazard pay. This is not what we signed up for,” said Cherry with a dark look. The baby in her arms snatched at her gold bow, ruining her sculpted black locks. Her lipstick was smeared across one cheek. “Merry, it’s your turn to watch the babies.”

“You said you liked babies.”

“I’m over it,” said Cherry, struggling to reclaim her bow and hair.

Trixie said, “I need to ask if you picked up Di’s bracelet from the dance floor. You know, Honey’s bridesmaid gift.” She pointed to similar bracelets on the twins’ wrists and held up her hand to show hers.

The twins shook their heads. “We were just trying to corral the kids,” said Cherry. 

“Let’s get them all in one place so it will be easier to look.” Merry clapped her hands. “Hey, everyone! We’re going to watch a movie! Come over by the TV. Pause your game, guys. It’s movie time.” 

“You were going to take the baby,” Cherry reminded her in quiet, desperate accents.

“As soon as we get the movie started,” said Merry, ushering every child firmly to the TV.

“What movie are you watching?” asked Trixie.

“ _Seventeen Again_ ,*” said Merry. “It’ll be educational.”

“Huh? That’s a kid’s movie?” asked Trixie.

“Probably not, but when your dumb brother puts it in the _Little Mermaid_ box, that’s what you show. It’s not rated R,” said Cherry, shifting the baby to her other hip. “Oh, ick, he spit up on my other shoulder too.”

Movies were movies, and it wasn’t hard to herd the twelve or so children into one place. Trixie strolled among them, handing out little bags of popcorn, and consoling those who’d rather have caramel corn or mints. One little girl, the same one who had shrieked during the processional, hid her hand under her pink party dress, with more ruffles, bows, and lace than Trixie would have thought possible. Trixie pretended she didn’t see the subterfuge and handed her two bags of popcorn, which forced the girl to arrange her dress over whatever she held before reaching out to take a bag in each hand. Trixie noticed a flash of blue. 

“I wouldn’t,” whispered Merry behind her. To Trixie’s raised eyebrows, Merry replied, “You’re fixing to accuse that brat Arianna of taking Di’s bracelet, right? I was watching you. Better that than looking at this squishy sack of barf and poop.”

As the teenager glared at the fussing baby in her arms, Trixie was glad that the Lynches had four other children to give them grandchildren. Merry didn’t seem like a candidate for motherhood. 

Merry continued, “She screeches like a banshee if you tell her anything. Security came the last time she did it. And I’m totally not surprised she stole it.”

“Hm. Let me think,” whispered Trixie as she sidled toward the door. 

In the hall she met Jim, who had had no success. She told him about seeing Arianna with the bracelet and also Merry’s warning. His green eyes twinkled. “Give me a minute. I’ve got an idea.”

In the ballroom, savory aromas from the meal had given way to sweet cake and treats. By the time Trixie rounded up Bobby, Terry, and Larry and sent them to help the other twins, Jim returned with Arianna in his arms. He had a quick word with the DJ before reclaiming a microphone and climbing up on the stage again. At some signal, Di joined him. When the current song was over—some old thing that their parents liked to dance to—Jim claimed everyone’s attention. Trixie edged over to where Honey and Brian were sitting.

“Good evening, friends. I need to interrupt your evening for a minute because a very special girl has won a very special award.” Jim smiled at the little terror in his arms. 

She smirked and tried to look saintly, but she hadn’t had enough practice and looked snooty instead.

“My sister-in-law Diana has been so sad because she lost the bracelet, her bridesmaid present from my sister. And because Arianna has been so clever and kind to find it for Diana, she shall have two pieces of jewelry for her own. And two pieces of cake.”

Arianna held out the bracelet and grabbed the two bracelets from Jim. “Where’s my cake?”

As he took her to the cake display, where the Wheeler’s maid Celia was carving, the room exploded with laughter, including Honey.

She exclaimed, “So that’s what Jim wanted the extra jewelry for. I had some extras made, so I’d have trinkets to give people for special help today.”

Trixie nodded. “Arianna’s been pitching fits all day. I’m glad you had something to bribe her with; I didn’t want her to make a scene by taking Di’s bracelet away from her. This is a great first case for the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency. It will give us some experience to point to when we set up shop in Oklahoma, something recent, not like our high school adventures.”

Honey widened her hazel eyes and stared at Trixie. “You’re not still planning on that, are you? I told you a long time ago I wanted to work with Brian.”

Trixie could feel her cheeks burning. “I guess I thought you could do both. I thought that’s why you were taking business classes last year, to run our office.”

Honey shook her head. “ _Brian’s_ office.”

Another guest claimed her attention, allowing Trixie to slink away. She angled her way into the restroom to give her cheeks time to cool. Then somehow she pasted on a smile for the rest of festivities, up to the point of waving good-bye to Honey and Brian as Tom the chauffeur whisked them away to New York to spend the night before their flight the next day. Finally people started leaving.

“Jim, I don’t want to go back to Bridelandia at Manor House,” said Trixie, a quiver in her voice. 

Jim nuzzled her hair. “Sure. Would you like to go to Moms’ house or to Crabapple Farm with Mart and Diana?”

Trixie sighed. The little house Moms and Dad moved into when they turned the farm over to Mart and Di had only three bedrooms, and the spare room was Moms’ art studio, always smelling of paints and cleaning solvents, usually covered with them. Crabapple Farm wasn’t the house of her childhood, and while she’d rather Mart and Di love the place into the next generation rather than see it neglected, she’d had enough newness for today. She longed to go home to the apartment she and Jim abandoned before their summer travels and wake up on Monday to go to her old job at the Sleepyside Police Department. Her eyes moist, she said, “I just want to be alone with you. I know we have a house in Oklahoma, but for the first time in my life, I have to be somebody’s guest in Sleepyside.”

Jim kissed her forehead. “I have an idea. Our camping gear is still in the back of the van. Remember, we said there wasn’t any point in moving it out? I know the perfect place.”

Trusting him, because she always had, Trixie leaned against his shoulder as he drove away from town into the deep black night only the countryside could provide. As he pulled the van into the woods, she exclaimed, “Oh, Jim! The Bob-White clubhouse! It _is_ perfect. Perfectly perfect!” She swallowed hard.

Jim grinned as he grabbed their double sleeping bag with one hand and a bag of camping gear in the other. He pitched it in the clubhouse and lit a lantern. Trixie automatically started to unpack, like she’d done on the road all summer, but Jim said, “Let’s get out of these clothes first to keep them from getting dirty.”

“Right,” Trixie agreed. “The rental place would charge extra if your tux came back dirty.”

“Um. Dad bought mine. As a wedding gift, like the bracelets. He bought one for Brian too,” Jim added, seeing the storm gather on Trixie’s face. “He said we’d need tuxes, with the way our lives were going now. I’m sure to be going to donors’ parties and such at the Boys’ Home.” With hesitation, he fingered the sleeve on Trixie’s pale gold dress. “You could wear this dress to something like that too.”

Trixie snapped, “If you want to dress up like a monkey and beg for peanuts, you do that, Jim Frayne, but count me out!” 

Unable to meet his surprised, hurt expression, she whirled around and crossed her arms over her chest, as though to press all the emotions back in. She bit her lip to stop its trembling. Not gonna cry, she scolded herself, like any girl with three brothers.

After a minute, Jim said, “I could remind you that you said you wanted to go these parties, to meet possible clients. Or I could ask you what’s been bothering you since we awarded Arianna her prizes and recovered Di’s bracelet.”

Trixie’s shoulders shook until Jim put his arms around her and rested his head on top of hers.

“Honey said—she said—she was going to work with Brian, when he’s a doctor, not open a detective agency with me.” Trixie hated the way her voice cracked.

“That’s why she spent the last year taking business classes.”

“I thought she was doing that for our agency!” Trixie hugged his arms closer. She took several deep breaths to settle her voice. She concentrated on the dusty smell of the clubhouse and the whispering of trees and small animals in the woods. “Did I misunderstand? Or not want to understand? Everybody knew this but me?”

Jim kissed the top of her head. “I won’t answer for everybody, but her family—Mother, Dad, and me—did know. I thought she’d talked to you.”

“Well—maybe. Maybe she was too tactful. Maybe I thought she’d change her mind. Or I thought she’d do both. I’d have to think about it, try to remember.” She wiggled around in his embrace and threw her arms around his neck. “Jim, everybody knows what they want to do but me! Dan’s a policeman; Brian’s almost a doctor; Honey’s a nurse—nursing administrator now, I guess—Di and Mart have the farm, and she does art while he writes. And you’re on your way to having a school, taking a job at the kind of school you want to run. All I know is what I don’t want to do! I don’t want to be a spy and I don’t want to be a police officer, but I love that feeling when I find something out, when I can put at least something to rights.”

“Knowing what you don’t want is important. And I like your idea of finding an Oklahoma detective agency to intern with.”

“What if I don’t like that either?”

“Then you’ll find some other path, or design your own. We’re not in a race, Trix.”

“But everything takes so long! I thought we’d get out of college and start living our dreams.”

“We got married, didn’t we?”

After a long, sweet kiss, Trixie murmured, “But you spent a year working for your father, and now you’re going to be a teacher at someone else’s school. And I just keep trying new things and discarding them. I guess I thought Honey and I would open our office the day after graduation. I wish I was still fourteen, when I was so certain about everything.”

Jim eased down the zipper of her dress and pulled it over her head. Carefully he draped it on a hanger where the Bob-Whites used to hang their coats. His eyes widened at her bra, a feat of engineering that added several inches to her bust. “That can’t be comfortable.”

“Nope. Get it off me.” She sighed with relief as he managed to pop the hooks. 

His coat was scratchy against her bare skin, and she pushed it off his shoulders. The waistcoat and stiff shirt didn’t feel any better, and they met the same fate as the coat. She followed his lead and hung them on the coat rack. Exchanging a glance, they shucked out of pants, hose, and shoes and scrambled into their tandem sleeping bag, the night air giving just enough chill to raise goosebumps.

Jim pulled her close to him, the way they’d slept together all summer, as he whispered, “Are you sure you still want to be fourteen?”

Trixie relaxed against him and resumed the kiss. Turning her head to come up for air, she eventually answered, “Okay, I’ll settle for seventeen.* That was a very good year. But back then it seemed like I could count on so much: my family, the Bob-Whites, my dreams. ”

Jim kissed her forehead and her eyelids. “That was the big picture. There was still school, with all of its trials, and all your mysteries and danger.”

Trixie scrubbed at her wet eyes, furious with herself. “But I still had you! And Honey. And my family. And the other Bob-Whites.”

“You still do. And now Beatrix Belden and James Winthrop Frayne are a family, going out into the wide world of life, and whatever happens, they’ll come home to each other’s arms and know they’re always in each other’s hearts. And they still have their friends and their parents, who will love them no matter what their successes or failures, especially your brother and my sister, with whom we’ll share a home this next year. Is that a good replacement for being fourteen and surrounded by your friends and family?” He tilted her chin back so that she had to look into his eyes.

Outside an owl hooted. Small creatures scurried away in the bushes. A breeze sent branches tapping at the windows, covered by Honey’s ten-year-old curtains, now faded. Trixie could smell the last of the honeysuckles, heavy and sugary, covering much of the cottage, and she breathed deep to capture the sweetness. She pressed close to Jim and marveled at his soft skin and powerful muscles, like she always did. “If you promise to love me forever, then yes, that’s enough for me.”

“I already did, Shamus. Lots of times. You can count on it.”

“I do,” she whispered as she relaxed into his arms and the night.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the Jixemitri Special Anniversary CWP: 17th Jixanny. Asterisks (*) refer to the required elements:  
> • Reference to a height (reference to the Jixanny charity)  
> • Someone fondly remembering the year they were 17 years old  
> • Someone looking through old pictures  
> • A wedding (in honor of Hans and Juliana's wedding)  
> • The color green (in honor of Hallie's toes)  
> • Furniture (reference to the traditional 17th anniversary gift and the Lynches' stolen furniture in book 17)  
> • Cousins  
> • Twins (in honor of the unnamed Lynch twin flower girls)  
> • Someone describing what something/someone means to them (in honor of Mary's Jixanny project)  
> • The movie: Seventeen Again


End file.
